ultimate invasion.
Suited in surgical gowns, gloves, and masks with shields attached, Chief Medical Examiner Lucy Chapman and CSI Scott Farrell huddled over the corpse. A lab tech reviewed paperwork on a clipboard and labeled test tubes.
With a surgical gown draped loosely over her street clothes, Raven accompanied Tony into the room, slipping on latex gloves. Tony's voice echoed in the chamber. 'We got a meeting with the chief in a half hour. Just wanted to see what you got so far. I know you've barely started.'
'Actually, we found something interesting. It's not much, but it might give you a lead.' Dr. Chapman spoke in monotone, with the composure of a CPA poring over a tedious tax return.
Raven admired her professionalism. Without any apparent emotion, the woman stood over Mickey with his gaping throat and shocked expression fixed at the time of his death. But under this light, Raven found it hard to dismiss the man's terror.
'When we removed his clothing, we found that pellet,' the doctor explained. She pointed to a small plastic capsule bagged on a nearby counter. Raven bent to get a closer look at the evidence.
The medical examiner continued, 'You'll need to confirm my suspicions, but one of my techs was familiar with that type of pellet. He says he's seen it used for paintball. Are you familiar with the game?'
Raven's stomach lurched. She knew what Tony would be thinking. She'd been trained to remain objective during an investigation, yet she found herself blinded to Delacorte's possible involvement. Blame it on her cop gut instinct—or had Christian tainted that, too?
'Yeah, just saw it played as a matter of fact.' Her tone steady, she stepped back to the table, catching the eye of her partner. 'But why wasn't the man plastered with paint? Wouldn't it have been on his clothes?'
'Good question, Detective. You're right, but not if the pellet had been filled with rubbing alcohol. It seems paintball pellets can be purchased separately. Filled by the buyer.' The CSI man offered his opinion. 'With rubbing alcohol, the sting of the pellet would be multiplied as it pummeled the body. It would explain the bruising.'
Pointing to the man's temple and neck, Scott added, 'He's got dark abrasions here from direct hits. See the breaks in the skin. His chest has only faint markings of impact, maybe lessened by his clothing. Still, it would have stung like hell, to be blasted with something like that. One of the pellets dropped into his shirt. We were lucky to find it.'
'So we're looking for a sick bastard with a twisted game of paintball.' Tony glanced at Raven with a grimace that spoke volumes. She knew Christian would be back at the top of her partner's suspect list. 'Anything else?' he asked.
'Yeah. We've had a couple of other cases under a similar MO. Two homeless guys. Maybe a practice run using people that wouldn't be missed? The MO is too unique not to be connected. It's a theory.' Scott offered his opinion with a clinical shrug. 'And as you remember, his tie and coat were missing. Didn't find his tie stuck in a pocket, so those items are still gone. And buttons were torn from his shirt. You might get lucky and find them at the murder scene, if you find it.'
'You still think he was killed elsewhere?' Tony confirmed.
'Given the blood evidence, I'd say yes. He was killed somewhere else.' Scott pointed to the vic's pants. 'And we found small flecks of some kind on his pant legs and hands. We've sent samples to trace, but it'll take time to process. You'll have to check back with me in a day or two. The lab's backed up.'
'Speaking of his hands, anything on them or under his nails?' Raven asked.
'We scraped under his nails, no apparent DNA evidence. But we did find GSR on his hands. Looks like the guy tried to defend himself. With an empty holster, you'll be looking for a gun, too.'
'We've got a check going for his permit to carry. Once we get that, we'll start the search for his missing weapon,' Tony replied. 'Anything on the wound? Time of death?' He glanced at the ME.
'From the angle of the cut, left to right, you'll be looking for a right-handed person. Not much help there. The slice was clean, no serrated edge to the blade. An incised wound transecting the left and right common carotid artery as well as both jugular veins, causing a fatal hemorrhage.' The ME pointed a gloved hand to Blair's throat. 'And as for time of death, the chill in the church distorted the time line, but my estimate would put TOD at approximately two hours prior to when the body was discovered and called in to nine-one-one. The absence of rigor at the church gave us that. I'll let you know if I change my estimate after the autopsy.'
'I'll let you know what we find,' Scott replied. 'Oh, and as for the trace evidence on his clothes and hands, I'll get the analysis bumped up. Put a rush on it.'
'You giving us special treatment?' Tony teased, his dark eyes crimped with humor, putting Raven more at ease.
'Not for you, you ugly SOB. This one's for Mackenzie. I mean, it's not like I've never heard the word 'rush' before.'
Tony grinned. 'Well, thanks for the enlightenment. Call me when you have a report. I'll pick it up.' Her partner stepped away from the gurney, tugging at his surgical gown.
Raven followed, yanking at her latex gloves. Catching a look from her partner, she asked, 'What? Spit it out.'
'I think I'm getting an allergy toward coincidences, Raven. And right now, I got hives in every nook and cranny of my body.'
'That's an image I didn't need,' she replied. 'You talking about the paintball thing?' After he nodded, she heaved a sigh. 'Yeah, I know. All my training tells me I should like him for this, but my gut says this is all wrong.'
'Are you sure it's your gut?' He stopped and turned toward her. 'Maybe your libido is doing all the talking.' When she glared at him and opened her mouth to speak, he interrupted her. 'Look, Mac, you're a good cop. I trust you with my life, but the coincidences are adding up. We gotta look hard at this guy. Can you do that?'
Without hesitation, she answered, 'Yes, I can. I've built my life on the law, Tony. It was a gift from my father, the only thing that grounded me after his death. Central Station is my family, for crying out loud.' Fixing her gaze on him, she added, 'But I gotta trust my instincts on this and speak my mind to my partner. Can you accept that?'
He searched her eyes for a long moment, then his expression softened. 'Yeah, I can do that. I just had to check. Come on. The chief is waiting. And we gotta make nice for the media. Glad I wore my best clip-on tie.'
'You mean you've got more than one?' Raven followed Tony, but her mind dwelled on her reaction to Christian as a man. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself? And her partner had been right on another count. She had to keep her mind focused on the objective. If Delacorte was the killer, she wouldn't have the luxury to ponder her feelings. Tony might press for his arrest, and she'd have no choice but to do her job.
As Christian entered the Dunhill mansion through the kitchen, he found it spotless, without the normal activity. Fiona dined at this hour and usually invited him to join her. But they hadn't made such arrangements today with his late drive into town. The lights were dimmed. Peering around the stainless pots and pans hanging over the large butcher-block table, he spied the gas stove glistening in the pale light, cold as the room in which he stood.
A white envelope lay atop the butcher-block table, his name penned with Fiona's elegant script. Without opening the note, he knew what would be inside—the emptiness of the manor closed in on him, telling him all he needed to know.
He picked up the stationery and walked toward the night light, placing the page on the counter. As he suspected, Fiona had left for Paris, a sudden meeting with associates. He knew from experience that whenever she used the word 'associates,' she meant the side of the business she'd always kept hidden—to protect him. When he was younger, he'd hated the fact that she guarded her secrets. Now he understood her intentions, and loved her all the more for it.
Absentmindedly, he wandered through the darkened house toward her master suite upstairs. He flipped the light switch. Treading by her elaborately carved four-poster bed into the vast dressing area encircled by mirrors, he noticed her luggage gone. His heart sank.
She'd taken all of it. Fiona planned to be gone a long time.
